Survival
by SophieSaulie
Summary: When you're alone, it's all about survival until helps comes your way and Billy learns that help can come in many forms. Casey doesn't accept failure well and it takes Billy to convince him that he's more human than weapon.
1. Chapter 1

**Survival**

**Chapter 1:**

Being alone.

It was a spy's lot in life in the end and he had come to acceptance with it.

He had the best mates, better then any he had known at MI-5, more importantly he had complete and utter faith in them, but missions can and do go horribly wrong at times.

When they do, sometimes you find yourself alone, with only your wits about you to keep you from getting killed.

This was one of those times for him.

When you have your wits plus an able body it was difficult enough, but if your body was even the remotest bit compromised, struggle elevated from mildly inconvenient to utter rubbish.

And that's where Billy found himself, quite literally.

He had awakened abandoned, alone and in a rubbish pile.

At first it was annoying to discover that he was reeking of refuse then he made the mistake of moving abruptly. Rule number one from Casey Malick's survival handbook, always move carefully upon wakefulness from unconsciousness because you never knew what kind of condition you'd find yourself in and you didn't want to worsen it by causing pain or unconsciousness. Wise words from a man who claimed unashamedly that he really detested mankind.

Still, Billy rued his forgetfulness of that rule as pain radiated from his left side so shockingly that it pushed any aromas of garbage out of his nose and his mind. It brought to his attention straight away to where the pain was coming from.

"Bugger," Billy cursed and groaned simultaneously.

He collected his thoughts, breathed through the pain and set his sights to determining his injury. Rule number two from Casey Malick's survival handbook, assess physical injury and determine limitations resulting from said injury.

"Right. Get out of my head, Casey. I'm doing it," Billy grunted as he unbuttoned his vest and found the bloody mess marring his shirt. "Blast, I just had that dry cleaned."

He unbuttoned his shirt next and peeled that back. The injury didn't come as a surprise.

"Right. Bullet wound. What a shock?" Billy muttered sarcastically.

Rule number three. Attend to the injury where possible.

"Tricky feat that one," Billy said to himself.

He chuckled a bit, though he regretted the searing pain it caused soon after.

"Who needs an audience when I can bloody mutter to myself and be quite entertained?"

Billy then became serious again. He knew that having been shot then the wound being exposed to the unsanitary conditions he had found himself in was not ideal and he had to find a way to get help or at least find a way to address the wound as best as he could until he got help, hence, Casey's rule number three.

He took in his surroundings, rule number four, ascertain location to determine proxity to populated area.

He found a tree next to him that he could use to pull himself up to a standing position. He girded himself for what he knew would be unpleasant and painful. If only he had Casey's ability to disconnect from pain, he'd just have to rely on his high threshold alone.

He moved to position himself and past experience had told him that the quicker the moment the better, much like the yanking off of a band aid. The pain might linger longer after the fact, but the initial burst would be swift and lessened the potential debilitating affect that such a counter intuitive act would cause.

There would be no temptation to stop in the middle of the act because that never ended well. It usually ended with either complete surrender to exruciating pain or unconsciousness and Billy couldn't afford eitherof those.

Timing was everything in the spy craft.

Life and death relied upon how much time was spent in evaluating the situation and how quickly each one was taken care of.

Injury, for example, had a very small window of opportunity depending on how bad it was. There was a time of expiration for very moment spent injured.

From the moment of the occurrence of the injury and depending on whether you were rendered unconscious outright from it for a period of time because of it, subtracting vital minutes for that, determined how much time you potentially had remaining to you to deal with the injury before irrevocable damage rendered you impotent to finding help. It all played in the survival equation.

Billy had practiced the scenario over and over and though there were similarities, it was the aberrations that played a larger role in the battle for life to win over death's wrenching pull.

He smiled. It was really quite Shakespearean to give death such anthropomorphic qualities. He didn't see it as the hooded figure with a scythe in his mortal play. No, Death was more of a mocking figure, leaning against the tree he was planning to use to stand up, for example, its arms crossed, standing idly by with a sickly joyful grin on his face, relishing in just watching him vie for survival, daring him to keep fighting him. Death would wait, like a hovering vulture, one of its minions, most like, until Billy was too weak or perched precariously on the edge of hope where it would then yank him back down to greet him face to face, breathing its soured stench of decomposition into Billy's own lungs so that the rotting, life sucking versus life sustaining air, if you could call it that, took Billy's breath away.

Billy swallowed hard then hoisted himself straight to a standing position, only using the tree to give him balance, not relying on it for true support. He needed to know how much he could do without that support because traversing from his point A to wherever he had decided was his point B depended on how long he could stay on his feet without assistance.

"Take that you ruddy bastard," Billy mocked.

Death gave him a snort and a sneer then gave him a gap toothed grin.

"_Enjoy your victory for as long as you can. Once you have one foot in my world, you'll be mine to steal."_

"Bugger off," Billy spat defiantly.

Billy closed his eyes to incite peace into his psyche. He allowed the pain to dissipate if leaving a constant throb in its wake. He could manage the throb, but knew that it would be temporary. Pain was not far for as soon as he began to walk, it would return with unparalleled vengeance. It was just patiently waiting for its queue.

He was in an urban forest or possibly a park. He hoped it would be the latter. He would find civilization more quickly if he held off unconsciousness long enough to find someone. It would also explain the garbage around him, clearly used as a way to camouflage his own decomposition so that he wouldn't be found easily.

No matter what, his first priority was to find a way to cleanse his wound, get a better look at it and administer what first aid he could.

"_Hurry up, you ass. Haven't I taught you anything?" Casey's voice entered his mind to "inspire"._

"That you did, mate, but not guaranteeing I was listening all the time. You'll have to be content to tell me that you told me so."

"_If you don't hurry, I'll be telling it to a corpse."_

"Right," Billy said as he heard water not too far away.

He pushed away from the tree. It was a disconnect that was surprisingly bringing on a feeling of regret because once done, pain would assert and be his new companion. He didn't want that, but he knew it was inevitable.

The first step was always the hardest because it was the one step you overthought, overanalyzed and hesitated for as long as you could to take. Once that first step of momentum was in motion, the rest would come as a blur of purpose.

Tentative. Slow. Fearful. The right foot pressed against the grassy floor and his body leaned into it.

And there it was, the searing penetrating pain, but it was also all too familiar to Billy. It wiped all sight from him for a split second and robbed him of breath, but he wedged a wall of concentration between the severity of it and his next steps. He kept his pace determined, intense and focused.

He followed the sound of the water. A soothing sound written so enticingly in literature as the cool relief, both in touch and taste. Whether it was a stream, a babbling brook, or a raging river, the relief was always represented in the welcoming sound it called out. A moving flow of water was the best news because even in an urban environment, it meant a reasonably assumed safety in using it.

He continued with a balance of haste and need towards the sound and was filled with absolute elation at finding it. He walked closer, but realized that he would need to kneel to even have a chance of obtaining enough of the elixir to drink or to apply to wash off his wound. "Ah, what's a little more pain, aye?" He thought to himself.

He committed himself and kneeled down. He grunted as he scooped up a handful of water, its coolness reassuring and its offer of healing irresistible. He splashed the water into his wound haphazardly at first, the dizzying mixture of stinging pain and numbing effect, caused him to desire falling into the depths of the stream as Narcissus had, enamored with his reflection, in Billy's case, the desire stemming from the need to rest.

Maintaining perspective was difficult when compromised. Your mind and body warred for dominance and focus was the prize.

There was always a risk in tending a wound and not in the way one would think. Sometimes, leaving a wound unattended, though obviously a life threatening choice "and really stupid" Casey would insist, could work to a person's advantage.

Billy had learned that lessening the affects of a wound could make you misjudge the seriousness of it, allow you to think you're fine when, in fact, something more sinister was playing out inside of you.

Also, a painful wound kept you awake, alert.

"_Okay, not even I'm that masochistic," Casey's voice countered. "And I have a better threshold for pain than you do."_

Billy sniggered. "That remains to be proven, my friend."

Still, Billy knew that he had to make an initial attempt at cleaning the wound given the conditons he had awakened in so he continued on.

He opened his shirt, scooped up more water and began rinsing it. Once the blood and dirt was removed, he could see the wound more clearly.

"Ah, yes, there's a hole there, all right," Billy gritted as he turned towards an angle that would help him see the wound as completely as possible.

It was bleeding, but not profusely or very quickly so one measure could be made, at least. He was not going to bleed out right then and there. Small comfort, but comfort nevertheless. He knew if nothing else, he had to do the best he could to stem the bleed though he dreaded the first aid prospects left to him to accomplish the feat.

Spies were lousy at being prepared for such situations, no portable first aid kits at the ready and despite the allure of American television's make-shift MacGyver where he could concoct things from spit and baling wire, Billy had to make due with what he had on him. He chuckled at the Celtic nature of MacGyver's first name, Angus.

"Perhaps the lad has something going for him after all with a name like that to live up to," he mused to himself.

He knew that he would have to wriggle carefully out of his jacket, vest and shirt. The pain of those acts would be considerable and he had to approach it all slowly. He couldn't afford to pass out. He needed to pack his wound to hopefully stop or at least slow the bleeding down.

Billy laid himself down onto the ground, figuring it would be easier to do it that way versus trying to remain upright the entire time. At first the jolt of pain was uncomfortable, but then for a moment, the relaxation he felt, the messages sent to his brain from his body were oh so tempting to listen to.

"_You need rest. Just for a minute."_

"Well, maybe for just a minute," he heard himself agree.

His eyes started to flutter closed as he let his breathing ease with the release of the pain, but then he started awake bringing in a rush of agony that caused him to groan.

"No! Stay focused there, Billy boy. You can't afford to nap now. You have to find help. You have to find your mates, help them find you."

It was in those seductive moments you learned that sometimes your mind gives you false scenarios that are not in your best interest. Lying down wasn't a good idea. He needed to stay awake, needed the pain to keep him that way.

"Bugger," he swore as he lifted himself back up to a sitting position, groaning the entire time.

That reminded him of another reason for not lying down, the pain coming up would be far worse and not necessarily worth the reward of the rest.

"Serves me right," he said as he slowly removed his vest, inching it off his shoulders, shallowly breathing to endure the discomfort.

His shirt was next. He shivered as he peeled it off, but maintained focus. He ripped several length-wise pieces off of it. The movements had required more muscle strength than he had anticipated and each tear caused wave after wave of pain, but he needed ties to wrap around him and hold packing pressed against his wound.

He packed the wound using his vest and tied the strips to hold it in place. It wasn't ideal, but it had been worth the exhaustive effort. He hoped it would be enough to staunch the blood flow a little. He put what was left of his shirt back on as well as his jacket in order to keep chills under control if they should assault whether from a drop in temperature or worse yet, infection. Chills would shake his body hence his wound, adding to the already dwindling pain threshold.

Rule number…Billy couldn't remember, but he knew what it was…recognize the changes the longer you're injured: Exhaustion, weakness, memory loss, pain becoming more dull and distant, less about the injury and more about the ability for him to be aware of it. He was becoming numb. He found himself ticking off more and more of the items.

"Right, time to get moving then," he said, but his body didn't respond very quickly to the command.

He found himself exerting more to make his body do what he wanted of it. The more exertion, the more it taxed the very few reserves he had left.

Still, he got to his feet, teetered a bit, but managed to keep from falling. He started walking.

He fought every muscle spasm that threatened to keel him over. He only balanced himself on each tree that he went by. He didn't dare stop or rest.

His body cried out to him to stop, shattering him with pain just when he thought he was home free from it.

Cold was penetrating his bones, but he knew it had nothing to do with the weather. Without looking he knew he was losing more blood, his improvised first aid was failing him and as darkness began to fall, he knew he was not only losing light but energy as well.

He was running out of time.

He could hear Casey in his disoriented mind.

"_Find shelter you idiot."_

"Right, care to give me a clue as to –"

Billy said, but was cut off by his own glance toward a clump of trees. He saw a building.

He felt renewed vigor rush through his veins as he walked to it, every step jarred his wound and sent wave after wave of pain into his body. He grimaced and grunted. He fought every instinct to collapse as he finally reached the door. He leaned on it and took in a few breaths to cleanse away the pain, but to also keep from passing out. Once he had collected himself, he knocked on the door.

No answer.

He tried to peer into the windows. It was dark inside.

He tried the doorknob and it turned. The door swung with little effort for which Billy was grateful. He had very little to give at that point.

He walked in and though the place had the look and feel of having been abandoned, Billy saw opportunities. He had spotted a well outside and knew he'd need water to replenish and to clean his wound. He hobbled out and poured the water into a small bucket. He barely carried it back.

His body was now screaming at him and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold off sleep or had to hope it was sleep and not something more permanent.

First he checked his wound and though it was still seeping blood, the flow had considerably slowed. That was the good news.

What he couldn't check was whether the bullet was still inside of him. Infection was inevitable. He just didn't know how much time he had before it set in. All he could do was continue to clean the wound for now.

As he did, he surveyed the room he was in. He noticed that there were wrappers of candy and other junk foods. They looked fresh. Another bit of good news. Clearly people came here and from the looks of the diet, they were probably young kids treating the place like a secret clubhouse. He had to hope that some of them might return, especially as darkness fell. He had remembered in his reckless, rebellious youth, sneaking off to pretend adventures in abandoned buildings around his home or as he got older to snog with a pretty young girl.

Ah, good times then.

The evidence around him allowed him to stave off planning much more at that moment other than to rest. He then spied what looked like unopened chocolate bars on a table. Suddenly his stomach rumbled in protest that it needed to be fed. He grabbed the bars and opened one. He'd have to reimburse whoever brought them. A jolt of sugar and chocolate would help keep his strength up. As he bit and chewed the bar, he didn't think that anything could taste so lovely.

He saw a chair in a corner and slid his body slowly into it, careful to keep pain and re-injury from setting him back. He took in deep breaths and before he even realized it, he was instantly asleep.

He stirred with slow reckoning not knowing how long he had been sleeping, grateful that it had just been sleep. He didn't feel better which concerned him, still, another quick assessment told him that he wasn't feverish and the pain was distant. He opened his crusty eyes and tried to focus in the dark room. His gaze then settled on a little girl's face. He didn't startle for fear he would scare her away.

"Are you okay?" Her timid voice cracked, her expression more of concern than of fear.

"Hello there, love. Yeh, yeh, I think I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," she said, her voice less of a whisper.

Billy smiled.

"Smart girl. You got me. Maybe I'm a little hurt, yeh?"

"You talk funny," she said with a small and curious smile.

"I do, don't I?" He said, getting a sense that if she were afraid, she would have bolted by now. "My name's Billy. What's yours?"

"Charlotte."

Billy tried to straighten up in the chair, but grimaced in pain.

"Ah, meaning petite and feminine. It suits you," he charmed and it brought a small smile.

"How do you know what my name means?"

"I know a lot of stuff like that. It's all stuck in my noggin up here, yeh?" Billy said as he pointed to his head. "Can't help what spills out of it."

"You're not from around here, are you?" Charlotte giggled.

"Sadly no, I'm from Scotland. Do you know where that is?"

She shook her head.

"Well, then, maybe someday when your parents take you there…" he started, but noticed a change come over her face. "What's wrong, lass, have I said something wrong?"

"My mom and dad are in heaven."

Billy winced from the sad lot this lovely girl was in. No one that young and sweet should be an orphan.

"I'm sorry there, sweetheart, I didn't mean to make you sad."

"It's okay. You didn't know. I live with my sister and her…" she stopped, her face going slightly pale and she swallowed difficultly. "...her boyfriend."

Billy's instincts tingled. Something about how she had said the word boyfriend and the look that came over her made the hackles at the back of his neck stand on end.

He then spotted a bruise on her neck. It had been hidden in shadow and even in his weakened state rage began to assert itself. Given the observations he'd made so far and he prided himself on that gift, he knew that the boyfriend was hurting Charlotte. Sad to say he'd seen his share of brutality, but when it came to innocent children, all sense of proper justice left him and revenge in all its sweet satisfaction was all he wanted to exact. The thought of applying it to the disreputable boyfriend infused his body with not only renewed strength, but also renewed purpose.

"Are you all right, love?"

Charlotte didn't answer. She just stayed silent, but Billy could see the fear in her posture.

"I promise you that you're safe. I won't hurt you."

She looked at him with a caring expression, seeing the sincerity in his eyes as she had never seen in her abuser's and she smiled.

"I know."

He admired how children had a deeper intuition than adults if left unsullied by cruelty and brutality. Knowing what he suspected about her, he found it even more impressive that Charlotte could still impart such trust to him, a stranger. There was a part of him that also suspected that she needed to believe that she could trust him. That he would save her and he promised himself that he would.

Still, he needed more proof from her. He had to gain more of her trust.

"This place yours then?"

She nodded.

"I come here a lot. It makes me feel..."

"Safe?"

She nodded and bit her lip. Billy noticed it and sensed that something had happened.

"Do you need to feel safe now?" He gently prodded.

She nodded her head furiously and as if feeling she could shed the mask she had one, she revealed her true fear.

Her eyes filled with tears and a small whimper clogged her throat.

Billy understood.

"He's hurt you, hasn't he?" Billy asked, keeping his fury in check for her sake.

She nodded again.

"Is he coming for you right now?"

She nodded again, tears began to stream down her face now.

"Does he know about this place?"

She shook her head this time.

Even if that were true, he'd have no trouble finding it sooner or later if he was on the hunt for her. They had to get out of there. They were sitting ducks with only the one door in and out.

Billy needed her to know that he would protect her. He needed her to feel safe with him so that she would follow his lead.

"Charlotte, I want you to know that I won't let anyone or anything hurt you, all right?" Billy emphasized.

She understood, but her gaze fell to his bloody shirt.

"But somebody's hurt you."

She was such a lovely, caring and perceptive child even after all that had been done to her, she was still worried about him. How could anyone hurt her? His anger built up more and more at the thought and the adrenaline it pumped into him, kept him from succumbing to his injury.

"Aye, but I'll be fine. Don't you worry about me."

Her expression looked doubtful and he couldn't exactly blame her. He probably looked far from being able to protect himself let alone her. He didn't think he was being all that convincing himself, but his injury had to be irrelevant in the scheme of things. She was more important and for now, he was feeling capable of helping her. He knew that at some point, likely sooner rather than later, he'd feel the effects and he'd be useless to her then.

"You're bleeding. I..." she stuttered. "I know how much bleeding hurts."

Billy bit his lip, restraining the continuing rage at imagining someone causing Charlotte harm.

"I need you to promise me something," Billy said.

"What's that?" She said, looking shy and fearful.

"You don't have to say anything. Your secret's safe with me. I know it's not safe for you at home. You've been a brave girl, but you have me now and I promise I'll protect you. I need you to trust me and do what I ask, all right?"

Charlotte felt the warmth of Billy's promise of protection and exhaled with relief. She didn't have to pretend with him, she didn't have to lie to him. He had understood her plight without her having to say a word. Still she worried.

"But my sister-"

"I promise you that we'll get her and keep her safe too, but for now, it's more important that I keep you safe."

"But you're hurt..." she fretted again.

He tried to prop himself up and make another assessment of his condition. Pain? It was still there, but manageable for now. To say that he'd been in worse condition in the past would be a sad admission and understatement. At least for now, he still felt like he didn't have an infection yet so that played in their favor for as long as he staved it off. He pulled his gun out of his jacket pocket. Charlotte stared at it.

"Don't worry, love. Just a precaution."

She nodded.

"Do you know the area well, lass?"

She nodded again.

"Can you guide us to someone who can help?"

"I think so."

"Good, good. Right, time to get going then."

Billy got to his feet, doing his best to keep any sounds of discomfort to himself. He had to do the best he could to hide anything that could make Charlotte fearful.

"CHARLOTTE!" A voice bellowed and Billy could see Charlotte stiffen with terror.

They had run out of time.

**TO BE CONTINUED. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Survival**

_Billy got to his feet, doing his best to keep any sounds of discomfort to himself. He had to do the best he could to hide anything that could make Charlotte fearful._

"_CHARLOTTE!" A voice bellowed and Billy could see Charlotte stiffen with terror._

_They had run out of time._

**Chapter 2:**

"Take my hand, love. Best be off now."

Charlotte hesitated, frozen in fear, but she then felt his strong hand envelope hers and she looked up at him. She saw determination on his features and suddenly, her confidence rose and her fear melted away.

"Okay," she squeaked.

She felt him squeeze her hand.

"No worries, all right? I'll protect you. I promise you that and I never break my promises to beautiful young ladies," Billy winked and smiled, charming her into calmness.

She nodded her head and they walked towards the door then out. Billy, limped at first, tried to find a comfortable stance then cadence that would keep him able to control the pain and keep up. His first and utmost concern was to not drag Charlotte down.

Once he took a few steps, admittedly painful enough to make him stop for a second, he closed his eyes and took a breath. He concentrated his thoughts into getting her out and safe to distract himself from the pain.

"_Okay, corpse it is then," he heard Casey's voice in his head. _

Billy smiled. Charlotte noticed.

"What is it?"

"Did you ever have an imaginary friend, sweetheart?" Billy said, not afraid that she might think him mad as they both walked at a quick clip.

"Yeh, right after my parents died."

Billy's heart leaped into his throat.

"Her name's Lily."

"Lovely name. I bet she's as pretty as the flower she's named after. Do you still think of her?"

She demurred.

"Sometimes…"

"Nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. She keeps you going during the bad times, yeh? When you can't get to your special place, right?"

She nodded.

"Well, grown ups don't like to admit it, but we have something like that when we need to keep our strength going. Mine's named Casey. He's a real mate to me, but during times of trial, thinking of him, keeps me going. He reminds me in my head that I have to get back to him so he can scold me royally. Which he enjoys way too much for my taste if you ask me."

She giggled and smiled and the gift of seeing her happy as well as forgetful of her plight, the worry stripped away even if it was for only a moment or two, reminded Billy of why he was doing what he was doing.

She liked the idea that a grown man had an imaginary friend.

It was reassuring to Billy that she was young enough not to think that he was crazy and had not been wounded by what she had gone through to stop believing in the impossible. He hoped that she'd think he was like her, just as vulnerable and in need of help and confidence as she did. He also hoped that he could restore some of her lost faith in grownups and more importantly, the belief in the magical possibilities that were still within her reach.

"Keep going, lass," he prompted.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

"CHARLOTTE!" the boyfriend yelled and it brought a tremor of fear to her.

Billy felt it and squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"No worries, love. I won't let him hurt you."

She smiled.

"It's not far to the ranger's station," she said. "We can call for help there."

"I'm right with you."

Billy clenched his eyes closed, resisting the involuntary need to double over in pain as he jostled the wound from the half run he was doing with Charlotte. He tried to keep his discomfort from her, but he was surprised to find how difficult it was to sustain. He was trying to grasp that stoic center, the mental toughness Casey had touted so proudly that he could achieve. Clearly he would have to admit defeat to him and crown him the undisputed winner of all things having to do with limitless human endurance. Billy had limits and he was reaching his tolerance quicker than he would have liked. Still, for her, he would press on until he had nothing left to give and not a minute before.

"_You know that bullet is making a mess of your internal organs, don't you?" Casey's voice filtered through. "You're going to become a liability to her and soon."_

Billy didn't answer, too busy trying to keep conscious, but he knew his Casey voice was right. Still, he just had to hold on until they got to the ranger's station, only then would he know that she would be safe and when he could freely collapse in a heap.

"There it is!" Charlotte squealed.

"Ah music to my ears," Billy teased as he saw the station near closer and closer and it gave him a burst of adrenaline to get there.

Once they had arrived, Billy let go of Charlotte's hand and leaned against the doorway. A rise of bile hit like an uncontrolled wave and he vomited spontaneously, having no ability to hold it back for a more tactful expulsion.

"My apologies," Billy wheezed as he wiped his mouth.

"It's okay. When I have a tummy ache, I would throw up too."

Billy smiled at the innocence that was still there and how it needed so desperately to be nurtured back to childhood health.

He spotted the phone and grabbed it. It was live and he said a silent prayer to whoever might be listening. An operator came on.

"What ranger station are you calling from?" She asked.

Billy searched the desk in front of him and found what he needed.

"I'm at the Northwest Ranger Station. This is an emergency. An innocent girl is in danger and I've been shot. Can you connect me to the following number, please?"

Billy recited it and the operator obliged noting that she would also call 911 as well to come to their aid. He accepted the additional help gratefully.

The line rang.

"CHARLOTTE! YOU ANSWER ME, YOU HEAR ME!" The voice bellowed.

Charlotte trembled in reflex and Billy hugged her close. He was getting closer to saving her. He had to keep her safe.

Finally a voice came on the line, a voice that brought relief and if had the energy, giddy joy.

_"Almost home," he thought to himself. "Just a bit longer." He told himself to keep from giving into unconsciousness of which he was precariously close._

"Michael?"

"Billy! What happened to you? Where are you?"

"No time for details or pleasantries, I'm afraid. I'm at the Northwest Ranger Station…" Billy recited as he doubled over in pain and groaned.

"Billy? Are you hurt?"

"Just get here as quick as you can. There's a wee young girl who came to my aid, but is in danger from a wretched man for whom I just might have to teach one of Casey's lessons to."

"What?"

"Just get here!" Billy insisted.

"All right, we're at that entrance now we should be at your location in a few minutes."

Billy dropped the receiver of the phone, the adrenaline quickly seeping away. He didn't have much time.

"Charlotte, darling, my mates are coming for you. They are not far. Do you know where the entrance is from here?" Billy breathed with pain.

"Yeh," she said, her voice timid and fearful.

"Then you must go as quick as you can to them."

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me, love. I'm going to keep the evil man at bay for as long as I can to help you get away, but you must go now."

"But…" Charlotte hesitated, gazing pleadingly, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't want to leave."

She had come to trust him and was afraid of leaving him. Billy felt warmed by her concern.

"Trust me, sweetheart," he said as he stroked her face. "My mates will get you away to safety first and then they'll come for me. I'll see you soon. I promise. Now, please go."

Charlotte quickly threw herself into him and embraced him tightly. Billy found the comfort rejuvenating.

He broke their embrace.

"Hurry, love. I'll be there before you know it."

He watched her run from him, looking back at him before she finally disappeared and felt as if his heart was being torn in two, adding to the pain he was feeling from his wound. Still, he propped himself up to a standing position, every inch he achieved ripping into him trying to bend him back down again, but he fought it off.

"_You can do this, Billy. Limitless human endurance, remember?" Casey's voice came through._

"That sounds suspiciously encouraging coming from you," Billy grimaced as he pulled his gun out and cocked it back.

"_Yeh, well, sometimes desperate times –"_

"Calls for desperate measures," Billy finished. "Right, well, once more onto the breach, aye?"

"_Not Shakespeare again."_

"And who else better to turn to at a time like this?"

_"Sun Tzu for one."_

"I'm a lover not a fighter."

Billy just smiled. It was one thing to hear voices, it was quite another to hold a full-fledged conversation. Perhaps the blood loss was making him hallucinate. It was that or madness. He'd rather not think he was turning into MacBeth. He smiled again. Shakespeare is always relevant to his mind.

Billy waited for Charlotte's tormenter to come into view. He heard the footsteps coming towards him, angry stomps crushing the dried leaves beneath them. Billy poised himself using the doorway of the ranger station to keep him up and hoped it would keep his aim true if needed.

"CHARLOTTE!" The man called again.

He approached step by angry step. He was then in Billy's full view and he stiffened both from pain and recognition. Billy raised his arms up in the Weaver position as he stared down his shooter.

The man did as well and stopped dead in his tracks, a grim smile curled at his mouth.

"Well, either I'm losing my touch or you have nine lives."

"I'd like to call it my stoic center," Billy taunted as he fought off rising pain, the grip on his gun shaky.

"Well, whatever it is, I'm impressed, but you look like you're not long for this world."

"Right, well, granted, I've felt better, but predictions to my demise are greatly exaggerated not to mention wishful thinking on your part, Blaisdel."

Knowing that Blaisdel was the same man who had not only left him for dead but who was also Charlotte's tormentor only strengthened his resolve to end the man. He felt this undeniable need to ensure that he never hurt Charlotte ever again.

"How did you find me, aye?" Billy goaded a bit, hoping to draw out Blaisdel's true intention, his real reason for being out here, which he already knew.

It was also a way to stall for time, for his mates to help him. He knew that he and Blaisdel were at a stand off and the moment the wound, the pain, the weakness was too much for him, Blaisdel would make his move. Billy felt the strain pushing him to limits that he didn't think he possessed.

"_Keeping the enemy focused on your weaknesses gives you the advantage. He'll underestimate you," Billy heard Casey's voice encourage. "Stalling is your best weapon, Billy. You can talk anyone into a coma."_

"_I don't know how much I have left in me, mate," Billy heard his inner voice answer._

"_It will be enough," Casey said. "Just a little while longer, Billy. We're on our way."_

"_Never doubted it, mate."_

Billy took in a breath.

Blaisdel faltered for a moment. It hadn't occurred to him that he'd find Billy, let alone have to explain himself to him about why he was out there.

It hadn't been about him at all.

"Good luck, I suppose. Looks like I'm getting a second chance to finish off what I started."

"Yeh, funny thing that. Far as you knew, I was as good as dead. Why this gate? Why here? How coincidental is it that we find ourselves at the same exit?"

"Small world?" Blaisdel faltered again.

Billy suddenly felt renewed. He had the bastard on the ropes confused. He did realize though that there was always a delicate balance with these things. Push too hard and he could drive Blaisdel to a number of rash options. The easiest of which for him would be to shoot him dead where he stood and then Blaisel would be in the wind, lost to him and to his mates. But one thing comforted Billy. Charlotte would be safe from him. That thought gave him the strength to keep the bastard talking.

"No, that kind of world would be microscopic, mate. You came here for another reason other than to finish me off."

Blaisdel became more flustered and confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't know. You tell me, yeh?"

Recognition dawned on Blaisdel's face that Billy knew about Charlotte and Billy almost felt the wave of recognition hit him along with it the realization that he might have just signed his death warrant.

"How about I show you?" Blaisdel gritted out as he drew up his gun. "You should have stayed dead."

"Edmund Burke said 'all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing'," Billy said, his voice calm and even as he stared down Blaisdel. "While I draw breath, she will never fear you again."

"Well, then I'll just have to remedy that," Blaisdel threatened.

"NO! NO!"

Billy heard her from behind him. A soft, sweet little girl voice, filled with desperation, but what warmed him was that in that desperation he also heard hope, he heard trust. He felt an overwhelming need to confirm that trust of hers.

He saw Blaisdel turn his aim towards her.

The ferocity of the anger he felt towards the monster who had laid an abusive hand on such an innocent boiled from within him. A blinding protectiveness rippled into his body, pumping whatever little reserves he had left into it.

He then pressed his trigger over and over again. Blaisdel, realizing the barrage, managed to get two shots off at Billy. Billy grunted as each shot hit their mark, bracing against their momentum as he lurched down to his knees, continuing to shoot. Blaisdel's body writhed and responded as every bullet struck him. Finally, he went down, silenced.

Billy, with nothing left, felt his own body crumple as well. He felt like he was melting to the ground. His grip was gone as he watched his gun fall from his hand, all the strength he had marshaled depleted with one swift decision, a decision that he didn't regret.

Despite his best efforts to hold himself up, he could only slowly lower himself to the ground to minimize the inevitable jarring pain. There was a sense of aching release that he welcomed as more of his body touched the ground beneath him. He could finally let go of his resolve.

Charlotte was safe. He had kept his promise.

He then heard squeals of terror and sobs near him. He searched for the source.

"Ch…Charlotte, love, don't cry," Billy gasped.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This happened because of me. Glen was right. I'm nothing but trouble," she sobbed.

Billy took in a deep, halting breath. He clenched his eyes closed for a moment and felt blood trickle up into his throat. He tried to swallow it back down, suppressing the inevitable cough that comes with it. He didn't want to scare her. He needed to reassure her that she had been worth it. He wasn't sure if he would have another chance. He then heard the footsteps of others coming towards them and knew instinctively that they were his mates. He had to hurry. He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek, wiping her tears away.

"No, no, sweetheart…you did nothing wrong," Billy wheezed in a breath. "Glen was an evil man. He hurt you…more heinously, he made you feel less than the beauty you are…what I did…I'd do again in a heartbeat to protect you from him. This isn't your fault."

Casey was the first to get to Billy. He felt him tear open his clothes to do any damage control he could.

Billy held his gaze on Charlotte.

"You're worth everything, love…your parents knew that…don't let…anyone…tell you different, all right?"

Charlotte, her face still wet with fresh tears, nodded.

"Go with…my mates, all right? I'll see you later, yeh?" Billy stiffened with a wave of pain he had no strength to fight off.

Rick heard his words and gently put his hands on her shoulders, but she resisted by jerking away.

"No, I don't want to go," she pleaded, repeating her words from before she left him.

"You trust me, right?" Billy said, trying to draw air into his lungs to talk.

She nodded.

"Then trust my friends…I'd trust them with my life…I'd trust them with yours as well…believe me…"

She then let Rick hold her and move her away, but she didn't tear her gaze away until she couldn't see him anymore. Billy then groaned with pain as he felt Casey apply pressure to his wounds.

"Hang on, you hear me?" Casey said as if it were more of an order than a request.

Billy smiled, a stream of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.

"I always do, mate…I always do," Billy said through rapid breaths as he winked.

Casey gave him a puzzled look just as Billy then lost consciousness.

**TO BE CONTINUED. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Survival**

**Chapter 3:**

Charlotte was too upset to go with her sister, Annabelle. She had to admit that a part of her was angry at her for not protecting her from Glen Blaisdel. A stronger part of her needed to be with the one person who had trusted her outright without treating her like a hysterical little girl.

Billy had never questioned her, had believed in her and it had meant everything to her. It had given her a peace of mind that she hadn't known for a very long time, not since her parents were still alive.

Seeing Billy hurt, bleeding, it brought those sad days back. She was still a young girl, but she had seen enough to understand pain, suffering, loss, so nothing any of the adults had said about Billy's condition meant anything to her. They were just trying not to upset her. They didn't give her credit for knowing exactly how bad things were, how bad Billy was injured.

Everyone, that is except for Casey.

He sidled up to her, handed her a handkerchief to wipe her tears on.

"Are you going to lie to me too?" She challenged, knowing it wasn't fair of her to lash out, but she was feeling tired and helpless.

"I don't lie or sugarcoat things," Casey said bluntly but without his usual sarcastic edge. "Are you okay with that?"

Charlotte nodded, feeling like he was going to treat her as a person, not a baby.

"I'm Casey," he introduced.

She giggled.

"Did I say something funny?"

"You're Billy's imaginary friend," she said, a wide smile came to hear face as she met the person to the name Billy had used.

Casey gave her a look that was half-confusion and half-dismissive. Charlotte caught it and continued to smile. She guessed that Billy had never told Casey that.

"He was trying to keep me from getting scared. He told me that when he gets scared, he'd hear you in his head telling him things to keep him going when times were tough and it would make him try harder to make it back so that you could scold him for getting into trouble," she happily related.

Casey straightened a bit, emotion rising perilously close to revealing itself to her. It brought a tightening to his chest that he found he was having trouble controlling and the pain there was real.

"Is Billy going to be okay?" Charlotte asked, breaking his concentration.

Casey hesitated, not because of her, but because as blunt as he was by nature, it hurt him in hidden ways that he had never revealed to anyone to think about a friend being beyond his ability to help. Billy was also a special case. He was the flipside of his coin. Though he had possessed the same iron will and survival instincts as Casey, Billy also possessed an understanding of humanity that had always eluded him.

Casey saw that talent, that touch with every asset that they had ever come across. Billy had diffused many a volatile situation with a humorous jibe. He could also confuse and confound a combatant with an encyclopedic knowledge from which he could draw the perfect reference for that person at a moment's notice and apply it successfully in order to gain an advantage or to produce the needed response. It was usually custom-fitted to be the most effective so that whomever it was tailored for would get the reference immediately. Then there was his love for all things Shakespeare. It bordered on the mystical and Billy had often used his knowledge of the Bard to obtain the required inspiration for the moment.

These were things he knew well about Billy.

The revelation that Billy would tap into anything other than what Casey believed was already an ample reservoir of training and survival skills, seemed unnecessary hubris. To hear that he would use Casey as his mental bridge to survival was humbling and Casey wasn't easily humbled.

"Casey?" she said.

He shook himself, realizing that he had drifted away cogitating on her last statement.

"What?" He said, rare confusion on his face.

"Do you think Billy is going to be okay?" Charlotte rephrased.

Casey looked at the innocent and longing expression on her face and suddenly felt unsure of how to answer her.

"Honestly, I don't know," he said, deciding to resort to his usual bluntness, but without all the harshness that came with it. "What I do know is Billy is a fighter and he's especially that when he knows people are depending on him…to come back…"

Casey trailed off in order to swallow back more rising emotion. He then cleared his throat.

"And he knows you're one of those people."

"You too?" She asked.

Casey straightened again and took in a breath. This young girl knew all the ways to penetrate what he thought was his iron clad resistance to any kind of sentimentality.

"Yeh. Yeh, me too."

"_Quite an admission from the human weapon, I'd say," Billy's voice said in his head._

"Will you excuse me for a minute? I promise I'll be back," Casey said as he quickly, but not running, left Charlotte to duck into the nearest men's room.

He checked all the stalls to make sure he was all alone then walked into one of them, locked the door, put the top cover down on the toilet seat and sat down. He breathed deeply and repetitively trying to keep himself under control, but he felt himself losing the battle. Slowly, but surely the emotion was winning the tug of war over his control.

"You better live, you bastard," Casey said, his voice wavering, failing at trying to sound defiant, precariously close to choking with tears.

"_Cracking that stoic center of yours, am I? I'm touched," Billy said in his head. _

"I knew this would happen, that you'd get into my head someday," Casey protested.

"_Best live then so I can admire my work," Billy said._

Casey then allowed himself to collapse under the unrelenting pressure. He could handle a lot of things, but possibly losing a friend was never something he was ever good at accepting.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Rick noticed that Charlotte was alone. Last he glimpsed her way, Casey had been with her. He walked over.

"Hey? You okay? I thought Casey was with you?"

"He was. He had to go to the bathroom. He kind of rushed in there."

Rick scrunched his face puzzled. Casey was usually never in a rush to use the facilities. Among his many gifts of control, bowel movements were counted among them.

"Ah, well, can I join you until he comes back?"

"Sure," she said.

Rick saw the uncertainty on her face and understood how she felt.

"It's okay to be scared. I'm scared too," Rick said earnestly. His face looked nervous.

"_Another honest person,"_ Charlotte thought to herself. It seemed to her that Billy surrounded himself with honest people like himself and that was refreshing.

"Are you one of Billy's friends?"

"Yeh. I'm kind of new to the team and he's been helping me."

"Casey said that Billy's going to be okay because he knows people are depending on him," she said. "Do you believe that?"

"Casey said that, huh?" Rick said with a smile. "Yeh, I believe that. Billy's the best."

Rick let his voice go wistful.

Charlotte's expression saddened.

"What's wrong?"

"It's stupid," She said.

"Come on, I bet it's not. Tell me," he encouraged.

"I want to help him like he helped me, but like a little girl can do anything. I'm not a doctor," she said with a pout of frustration.

Rick understood.

"You're not alone. I feel the same way. It's hard to know that someone is hurting and you can't do anything to help, especially when he's done that for you."

"Was Billy your imaginary friend?"

Rick gave her a "huh?" expression too and she smiled.

"Well, I don't know about that, but when I got hurt, he not only helped me, but he never left me. He stayed by my side and told me a story about himself showing that things could always be worse to keep my mind off of my pain," Rick related with a laugh. He then sighed. "He's always there for you."

Charlotte watched his face and she found herself feeling like he did. Billy had saved him and he had saved her too and they both felt equally helpless to return the favor.

"I know. I want to save him too."

Rick thought for a moment and an idea came to mind.

"You know, they say that people who are in comas can still hear you. Maybe you can help him by telling him stories just like he did for me?"

Her face brightened, practically glowed.

"Really? Do you think they'll let me?"

Her excitement was infectious and Rick felt his own sadness lift at helping Charlotte feel better, but also at the prospect of doing his own bit to help Billy.

"I'll look into it."

"_Brilliant, lad. Helping our little damsel in distress, you are. Heart of hero, that's what you are, mate. Knew it all along, yeh?"_

Rick stiffened with apprehension and confusion. Where had that come from? He turned towards the ICU glass where he could see Billy tied to all kinds of machines and though he knew he couldn't have heard what he thought, he paused long enough to wonder and gave a shred of belief that if anyone could bridge that barrier, it would be Billy.

Rick was able to convince the hospital staff that Charlotte would be a benefit to Billy's recovery and that it would help her as well.

Billy's prognosis had been grim. He had been shot three times. The first bullet had caused damage as Billy moved, forcing it to travel inside of him. The doctors spoke of how miraculous it was that he had managed to survive as long as he had.

It hadn't been to his friends and they knew Billy would never have stepped back if a child was in peril.

The other two shots that Blaisdel had managed to get off, lodged themselves in tricky positions, making the hours long surgery delicate and that much more taxing on Billy's already compromised immune system.

The result was a comatose Billy, hooked up to machines measuring his vitals as well as providing life-sustaining measures such as antibiotics and pain medication.

It was all overwhelming for even the hardened adults who were Billy's friends yet Charlotte had resolved herself into thinking only of helping Billy. She hoped that he would hear her talking to him and wake up. The three men of the ODS watched her positivity and saw Billy there, as if he were channeling her to remind them that he was still there with them, fighting. It was the kind of reassurance and connection Billy would provide.

She scoured her room at home, pulling out favorite storybooks and reading them aloud to him as many days as she could after school.

One day, Annabelle came to her room after hearing all of the ruckus.

"What are you doing, Charlotte?" She asked.

"I need to find some books to read to Billy."

"Charlotte, he's in a coma. He's never coming back."

"DON'T SAY THAT! I believe he will. He saved my life and I know that he knows that I'm there. I'm not leaving him. **He** didn't leave me," Charlotte said, at first her tone was stinging and accusatory then she calmed herself.

"I'm sorry –" Annabelle said, feeling the accusation.

Charlotte stopped her search, took a breath and sighed.

"I was mad at you before, Annabelle, but I'm not anymore. Billy made me see that it wasn't your fault and he made me see that I…I'm not a bad person like Glen said I was."

Annabelle listened, her eyes filling with tears.

"Of course you're not –"

"But you still let him say it," Charlotte said, not meaning to be accusatory, just truthful like Casey always was to her. "You still didn't protect me."

Annabelle's silence spoke of her admission to both truths.

"Billy didn't even know me and yet he believed in me…I want to help him now…I'm not a helpless little girl, Annie. Please don't stop me from helping him, okay?"

All Annabelle did was nod.

Charlotte read Billy her favorite stories and sometimes Billy's friends would sit and listen with him.

They told her about how much he loved Shakespeare, but she didn't know who that was. They told her they would try to read that to him and that she could listen. They admitted that they didn't understand the words either, but they knew Billy would.

She then felt this desire to understand Shakespeare and find a way to share Billy's love for his writing so she went to the library and asked for help. She hoped she would find kids versions that would help her understand. A helpful librarian admired her determination and helped her by telling her the plots to some of the plays so that she could at least understand the stories. Charlotte was excited and enjoyed the time she spent there learning.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

A few weeks had gone by and Billy had improved enough that he had been taken off the ventilator. It was a hopeful sign that everyone clung to, but he had remained in a coma.

All the men of the ODS had been faithfully visiting and had played uncle to young Charlotte, whose heart had been won over by Billy completely.

It made Michael smile at the thought as he sat by the bed, watching, hoping for a sign that he had to admit he wasn't sure would come, but despite his paranoid and cynical nature, having Charlotte around was like having Billy around, telling him not to give up on him yet.

"Your charms work on the young ones too," he said teasingly. "She has a bad case of hero worship…and there's no one more deserving."

Michael took in a breath.

"But you have to wake up to enjoy it," he said. "Casey told her that you'd fight if you knew people depended on you. I don't think he'd appreciate it if you made a liar out of him especially in the eyes of a little girl. I think she's got him wrapped around her finger. Now THAT you have to wake up to see."

Michael paused. He tried to keep a handle on his emotions, but it was difficult.

"Charlotte isn't the only one who's –"

"_We few, we happy few, we band of brothers/ For he today that sheds his blood with me/ Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile/This day shall gentle his condition…"_

Michael straightened and turned to search the room. No one was there.

"_And gentlemen in England now abed/ Shall think themselves accursed they were not here/ And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks/ That fought with us..."_

"Upon Saint Crispin's day," Michael finished.

He stared at Billy's prone body on the bed almost willing to see Billy awake, but was disappointed to find that he wasn't.

"Damn it, Billy, wake up," Michael said, unsure if the lack of sleep was preying on his already taxed and fevered brain.

Michael then heard small foot steps come up to him. He then felt Charlotte place her hand into his and squeeze. He looked up into her innocent eyes and smiled. For a jaded operative like him, sentimentality was a luxury and usually sacrificed. His marriage had been a casualty yet looking at Charlotte he allowed himself to strip away his "professional" demeanor and just act as her friend.

"He will, Michael. I know he will. He's been hurt and just needs to sleep. I know he can hear us when we talk to him."

Michael took in a breath and allowed himself a silent hope, something he never would have given on his own. With the tender mercy from a little girl, he gave into her positive light, stepping out from his normal gloom and doom.

"You know, I believe he does too."

_"What's this now? Our fearless leader is admitting to a belief in an innocent child's faith in the improbable? This IS a red letter day."_

_Improbable not impossible. Michael knew the difference._

"Have you worked with Billy for a long time?"

Michael was a little surprised at the question, but was pleased at her fearless curiosity.

"Almost seven years."

"You know, he knew you would be coming to save us."

Michael swallowed back emotion.

"He believed it so much that he made me feel less scared."

"It's something he does really well, even for grown ups like me," Michael assured.

"I was still scared though. I hope he didn't see that because I didn't want to disappoint him."

Michael smiled yet it trembled.

"The thing about Billy is you could never disappoint him even if you tried to."

Charlotte smiled, but she detected the sadness at the fringes of his face.

"Are you okay?"

Michael was impressed by the intuitiveness of the young girl.

He envied it.

He may have the intuition needed to do the spy craft, but the kind of intuition she possessed, that Billy still possessed, was what he had longed to recover, but knew he never would. Billy would tease that all things were possible, but Michael knew that there were some things that were lost forever.

"Yeh, I'm fine. Just thinking about Billy. I've…" Michael paused surprised at the ease that Charlotte's presence was infusing into him. "I've let him down, but he always forgives. If you learn anything from him, Charlotte, learn to forgive like he does."

"That's…because…there was nothing to…forgive…"

Both Michael's and Charlotte's eyes opened wide with shock. Michael stood up and got out of his chair. Charlotte was at his side, both of them hovering at the bed.

"Billy?" Charlotte's voice squeaked out.

Michael was too much in shock to utter a sound, his mouth agape.

Billy upturned his head to see Michael then turned to see Charlotte.

"Billy! You're awake!" Charlotte said, her joyful squeal giving both men a burst of positive energy.

"It would appear so, love…" Billy said, tiredly and yet the lilt that was characteristically Billy was there too.

"I'll get the doctor," Michael said when he felt a weak grip on his sleeve. He looked at it and then at Billy.

The tired smile on Billy's face nearly brought the hardened leader crumbling to his knees.

"You have never let me down, Michael. Just my being here proves that," Billy uttered, focusing all his energies to make Michael hear him.

Michael felt the wave of emotion threatening to break his wall of control yet again. He could only nod then left to get a doctor.

"Billy, you were asleep for a long time," she said.

He turned his attention back to her.

"Aye, that I was, lass. I feel like a fairy tale turned on its head."

"Huh?"

"I feel like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. Your favorites, yes?"

Charlotte's eyes opened wide with awe and delight.

"You heard?"

"Well, of course I did, love. You are a right brilliant storyteller."

Charlotte stared in amazement.

"Thank you, sweetheart…for believing," Billy said.

**TO BE CONTINUED…Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Survival**

**Chapter 4:**

Billy began to recover quickly after he had regained consciousness. Everyone had been renewed by the return of Billy's jovial presence.

Charlotte still visited everyday and one day, she had even brought along her sister to visit him with her. She thanked him for saving Charlotte and apologized that he had gotten hurt. Billy, of course, absolved with a wink, a kind word and a smile. She left smiling herself, as if a weight had been lifted from her own young shoulders.

Michael had watched it all with amusement.

Annabelle left, but Charlotte wanted to stay behind.

"Your sister, Annabelle. She is as lovely as you are," Billy complimented.

Charlotte bowed her head a little.

"I was mad at her for a long time for not doing anything, for letting Glen hurt me…"

Billy's heart swelled with regret for this beautiful child.

"Darling, I know in my heart that if she had the strength to do anything she would have. She was just as afraid as you were. He was a monster to you both," Billy tried to absolve.

Charlotte looked into Billy's eyes, and she saw someone who was always ready to forgive, always willing to forgive as Michael had told her and she smiled.

"I know. Just before you woke up, Michael told me that if I learned anything from you, it would be to forgive. That night, I told Annabelle I forgave her."

It was Billy's turn to smile.

"You didn't need to learn that from me, lass. You have a forgiving heart. You just had to be ready."

"Thank you," she said, tears flowing from her eyes. "For saving my life…mostly for believing me when no one else would."

She wanted to hug him, but he was still mending, still, Billy didn't need one to see how grateful she was.

"You don't need to thank me. You needed help. I was glad I could. You've more than returned the favor by staying by me and reading to me."

It was simple, unconditional and filled with honesty and Charlotte took his hand and held it up to her cheek.

Billy's heart pounded in his chest, it was so filled with affection and protection for this sweet young girl.

She let go and looked up at him.

"I have to go see Annabelle, but I'll be back later."

"I'll be waiting, lass."

As Charlotte left, Michael was at the door, smiling.

"It seems you have a way with women, no matter what their age," Michael teased.

"What can I say? It's a gift."

"So, the doctors seem to think you'll live another day."

"Aye, good feeling that," Billy said. "I hear that you have been imparting some lessons of your own to our young Charlotte there."

"Me? You must still be hallucinating," Michael joked.

Billy gave him a comforting expression.

"I hope you know that I meant what I said despite being under the influence of emerging consciousness."

Michael smiled then became serious.

"That's never been in doubt, Billy."

Billy, though, knew that Michael would always take responsibility for anything that didn't go to plan and which had caused any of his men to get hurt. It was why he was a good leader, a leader that Billy vowed he would follow to the depths of hell and back. Though he knew Michael understood that, he would consider it his mission to make sure Michael never questioned it, especially during times like now, when it would be easier to harbor on the things that had failed rather than on the fact that Billy was alive, that he had survived.

"Then why the long face, Michael?"

Michael took in a breath and bowed his head.

"You almost died out there, Billy. The mission was almost botched."

"Operative word being 'almost', no pun intended. I didn't die, Michael. I survived and sometimes that's all that matters, yeh? As cliché as it is, surviving means another day fighting so I consider it a gift. As for the mission, we got Blaisdel. I'll grant you it was not exactly the way that we had planned, but I'm a results-oriented kind of guy. More satisfying for me, we saved that lovely young girl from further abuse at the hands of that animal. To hell with the rest, that alone made this mission a success."

"**You** saved her, Billy."

"I'm part of a team, mate."

Michael always admired Billy's positive spin on the missions. If he were to admit it, he depended on it, because without that perspective, he knew he would wallow in the failures of every mission. It was one of the reasons that for every time Billy faced near-death, Michael felt that any good in him he possessed would cease to exist without him being there to remind him that it existed at all. For Michael, it was that simple.

"And what part of 'team' do you not understand when you bolted after Blaisdel on your own?" Casey said as he walked in the room.

"Ah, there's our one-man army and secret weapon now. I seem to remember same-said human weapon suggesting the very same strategy."

"Exactly, which meant it was **my** call, **my** job," Casey declared, but there was a quaver in his voice he was trying hard to disguise. "Do I have to use my own interrogation methods to drive the point home with you?"

"Perish the thought, man. Will admitting my rash actions as inexcusable settle things between us?"

Casey found himself wavering a bit again.

"This time," Casey paused for a second. "But I know you'll just do it again."

Billy detected something in his voice. There was no characteristic biting Casey sarcasm, though it was trying hard to push through. It was a small crack, undetectable to the regular human ear, but not to the trained ear of an operative, especially one who was attuned to such nuances, changes in inflection could mean life or death. In this case, mental control, Casey's finely crafted stoic center.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a workout to accomplish," Casey said as he turned to leave the room.

He stiffened for a split second as if in pain, but then regained his stature and left the room quickly.

Billy arched his right eyebrow and Michael noticed.

"What is it?"

"Not sure, but I fear our Casey is not himself."

"And how can you…"

"Just a feeling I'm getting."

"Should I be worried?" Michael asked.

"Not if I can help it," Billy said. "Casey's a bit like a skittish animal, yeh? You have to stalk cautiously or you risk –"

"Physical injury?"

"Well, that, of course."

Michael smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"If anyone can bring him out of his funk, you can," Michael encouraged. "Besides, better you than me."

Billy just gave him another arched eyebrow, this time pointedly for him. Michael then left the room.

"I suspect I know what's really bothering our human weapon."

_Flashback_

"_Blaisdel's made us and he's going to go underground if we don't do something," Casey said._

"_And how do you suggest we go about stopping him, aye?" Billy queried unable to tap into Casey's plan other than envisioning violence and personal harm._

"_Hunting him down like the dog he is, of course," Casey said with a huff as if the answer should be obvious to Billy._

"_While I whole heartedly agree in principal, you're forgetting that Michael and Rick are still in there trying to maintain cover. If we go all guns blazing, we could jeopardize whatever credibility they've created. _

_"I DON'T forget," Casey emphasized. "Once word of Blaisdel's betrayal gets back to his superiors, their covers will be just as blown, that's why I have to take him out before that happens. And what's this 'we'? Only one man needs to get to Blaisdel."_

"_And that's you, of course?"_

"_Are we really having this conversation? This is my job in case you need reminding. This is what I do."_

"_And am I just window dressing here?"_

"_Well, in this case, yes, you are. I thought that goes without saying? I'm wasting time arguing with you about this."_

_Before Billy could protest and defend himself, Casey had taken off. Billy swore under his breath as all he could do in that moment was shadow Casey towards where Blaisdel had been heading then do his best to protect him. He knew that despite Casey's protestations of being able to accomplish taking out Blaisdel on his own, Billy couldn't just sit idly by and wait for the next catastrophe to happen._

_Casey stalked with the ease of a cat, getting closer to where they had last seen Blaisdel. Billy was close behind. They both spotted him simultaneously, but then Casey was ambushed from behind. Billy saw that he was handling his attacker just fine, but that Blaisdel was getting further away so he left Casey to handle his attacker and took off towards Blaisdel._

_Casey glimpsed through punches and kicks that Billy was continuing to pursue Blaisdel. He swore and getting to Billy gave Casey that extra bit of adrenaline he needed to defeat his attacker once and for all. He then resumed chasing after both Billy and Blaisdel._

_Casey hated being left behind._

_He would rather plunge himself into chaos, place his fists and feet into combat rather than sit on the sidelines as he watched someone else place themselves at risk. _

_Casey hated undercover work. _

_To him, pretending to be someone else was arduous, much more work than being engaged in a grossly outnumbered hand-to-hand with maniacal militiamen just as intent on killing him as he was intent on killing them. That was the adrenaline rush he thrived on._

_Casey hated leaving anyone behind._

_Carson was only one among many in Casey's storied career in the CIA where he had to walk away from someone who was either dead or captured. He always did it kicking (sometimes literally as well as figuratively) and protesting the entire way, denying his usually indisputable logic telling him that there was absolutely nothing he could do to save someone._

_There was always something he could do, he would think, knowing that there were sometimes no-win situations. His favorite movie was **Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan** because Kirk didn't believe in the no-win scenario either and had manipulated a computer program to make sure he would win. _

_Casey would always skip the ending because inevitably, like in life, you had to face a no-win scenario._

_And Casey hated no-win scenarios._

_Billy would try his patience with his insubordination every chance he got and sometimes, he would have to grudgingly grouse that he would have been dead if it hadn't been for Billy's flagrant defiance._

_Casey hated putting anyone else in danger._

_But like no-win scenarios, sometimes, it was unavoidable and as he heard Billy yelling his name, saw him run towards him, heard the shots, felt one hit him, then through his training, somehow knew that the other had hit Billy, he knew that this was one of those times. He felt Billy's shove as he hit the ground; the searing pain of the bullet and the ground bearing down on it was too much for even the human weapon to withstand and his world went black._

_When he woke up, getting up was agony, but his trained eyes spotted the blood trail moving away from him and he knew that Billy was in pursuit. He cursed and got his cell phone out. He left an encrypted text message for Michael then proceeded to pass out again._

_Casey hated when missions went sour._

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Casey had been avoiding Billy.

Billy hadn't seen him for a couple of days, but he had patience and sooner or later Casey, in his own time, would show himself. He knew why Casey was playing persona non grata with him.

Casey always thought he should only be the one to endanger his body, his life.

On that one point, Billy and Casey would always disagree and never see eye-to-eye.

Survival was more than just one man taking all the risks.

Survival was knowing that others would be there to save innocent lives when you couldn't.

Survival was knowing that your compatriots would finish the mission when you couldn't.

Survival was knowing that where it was humanly possible, they would find you and get you back.

Survival was acceptance and forgiveness when they couldn't because you knew that if they could have, they would have.

Survival was having their voices in your mind when your own voice was dimming in the assault of pain and torture, leading you towards their comforting encouragement and away from resignation and surrender.

Billy understood all those things and he would never shirk from that responsibility.

He didn't know how to do that. He would never learn how to do it.

And Casey would always blame himself when the results were far from optimum.

It was the kind of quality that Billy could relate to, but also that he would vow to never allow Casey to sink into.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Michael and Rick went looking for Casey to every haunt they knew he would go like to the gym, but hadn't found him.

It had been Charlotte who had found him two days later, staring at the hospital entrance, but not walking in.

"Casey? You, okay?"

He looked down at her worried expression and took in a breath.

"I hate hospitals," he said honestly.

"But you've been inside every day when Billy was sleeping," Charlotte observed.

Casey closed his eyes.

"I know. It doesn't mean I don't still hate them."

Charlotte nodded.

"I understand," she said. "When my parents were in an accident, I didn't want to go in either. Everyone made me. They said that my parents would be okay, but…they weren't."

Casey swallowed. He felt dizzy, but managed to keep himself from passing out. He knew why it was happening, but was in denial about it.

"Then when Glen hit me, I had to go into one again. Annie made me because he'd fractured my arm grabbing me…I've hated them ever since."

Casey curled his hands into fists, anger poring into his veins, his heart pounding at the thought of her being abused by that monster. Killing him didn't seem justice enough in his eyes. It was men like that who deserved to be tortured. Not good men, like his team.

"Then Billy got hurt and I thought he'd die like my parents did. I thought I was bad luck," Charlotte said, at first sad then she smiled. "But he didn't and he believed in me. I don't hate hospitals anymore."

Such simple logic. Casey wished he could think that simply again, that positively again. He knew he never would. He knew that all he had left to him was anger and recrimination.

"I'll go in with you, if you'd like," she offered.

Casey felt a small hand touch his, waiting for him to grasp it. His anger dissipated and he took her hand into his.

"Let's go then," he said.

She giggled and it lightened his heavy heart.

They reached Billy's room and Casey froze again.

"You go in first," he said, feeling like a coward. "I'm sure he'll be much happier to see you."

"Okay," she said with a smile as she let go and went into his room.

Michael walked up to Casey, a little perturbed.

"Where have you been?"

"I'm not on the clock, Michael," Casey said tersely, squeezing his eyes closed in pain. "Where I go on my own time is my own business."

Michael heard a tremor in Casey's tone that allowed him to hold back scolding him for going MIA.

"Billy was worried about you. We all were. He seemed to think that it had something to do with him. Does it?"

"I don't like being interrogated, Michael."

"Does it have something to do with what happened to the both of you when you were in pursuit of Blaisdel? I never did get the full story on that."

Casey stiffened, but his resolve slipped.

"Are you asking as my boss or –"

"I'm asking as your friend. You've been on edge ever since we lost Billy in the field and even now, when he's better you –"

"SOMEONE HELP!"

A shrill young voice called out breaking their conversation and their concentration.

Casey went ramrod still, clenching every muscle, his neck tense ropes.

Michael ran over to her.

"What's wrong?"

"I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW! Billy can't breathe!"

A phalanx of doctors and nurses rushed into Billy's room.

"I thought he was going to be okay?" Charlotte wept in hysteria.

Casey was riveted to the spot he was standing.

"_Every actor needs the right proper exit yeh? The play's the thing, after all."_

Casey then heard himself mouth in hushed tones.

"No, you bastard. You don't get to leave. Not on my watch."

**ChaosChaosChaos**

The doctors had determined that Billy had developed a pulmonary edema, which had caused his difficulty breathing. They gave him diuretics to remove the fluid and he was responding well. They had told everyone it had been a minor setback, that Billy would be tired, but all right for visitors if briefly.

The men encouraged Charlotte to go in, but the episode had scared her and she was afraid again.

Casey saw her trepidation and walked up to her, his hand trembling briefly as he extended it. He had been without sleep and food for a few days, immersing himself in his workouts in order to block out the voice of his conscience. He recognized the physiological effects he was experiencing of doing that to his body, he had not fully healed himself, but he was the human weapon. He would just retreat to his stoic center and regain control just like he always did without fail, but at that moment, as he shifted his concentration towards Charlotte he felt his body winning over his control no matter how hard he fought to keep that tenuous control.

Charlotte was more important.

Billy was more important.

He had to hold it together until he could get her into his room. The extent of his protective nature towards her surprised him, but he didn't resist it.

"I'll go in with you, if you'd like," he said repeating her encouraging words back to her.

Rick and Michael could barely contain their snickers.

Casey didn't even turn then said, "I can hear you, you know."

Charlotte smiled too as she took his hand. She then noticed how weak his grip was.

They walked in together.

Michael noticed a drag in Casey's steps that he had never seen before and his paranoid hackles were raised. Casey was struggling to walk, to keep steady on his feet. He saw the forced actions and he continued to observe. Jumping to conclusions when it came to Casey was a mistake he'd never make again after having suffered the wrath of doing that in the past. Still, he didn't think he was imagining things this time.

Billy felt their presence. He turned his head. His nose and mouth was covered with an oxygen mask to ease his breathing. He weakly pulled the mask off so that he could talk.

Casey swallowed at seeing Billy's gaunt and somewhat bluish-grey pallor. Despite Billy's attempts at trying to act normal for Charlotte's sake, just as he was doing the same for her, Casey knew that Billy was far from well. His jovial smile may have fooled her, but Casey's senses hadn't been so dulled that he hadn't noticed it, but then again, he knew he was far from his precious 100% himself.

Denial was a river in Egypt and both Billy and Casey rode those rapids way too often.

"Good to see you, love…I'm so sorry I scared you before, but I promise you…I'm good now," Billy said as he replaced the mask, feeling the need for the cool gas to soothe his throat and lungs.

Far from well at all…the both of them, what an understatement, Casey admitted only to himself. He also noted, _"note to self, we're both a couple of idiots."_

"It's all right, Billy. I'm just glad you're okay. I was scared, but Casey helped me," she gave him a smile.

"Did he, now?" Billy breathed with a strained smile, tickled at the notion that Casey would be the one to provide that kind of comfort especially to a young child. "Quite the gesture, I imagine."

"I have my moments," Casey said, wrestling to keep conscious, but feeling unconsciousness creeping quickly into his body, spiraling quickly out of his control.

All he could do was hope that it wouldn't hit until he left the room.

Billy noticed that he didn't look well at all. Until now, Billy would never have attributed illness, pain (prolonged pain, anyway), or any kind of weakness to the human weapon and the fact that he could now, worried him beyond his own struggle over his own pain and weakness at that moment. If Casey had experienced any of those things, he had hidden them well, but now, it was clear, his dominance was slipping.

Billy nodded to the young girl and watched her walk out. Casey was about to turn and join her, when Billy pulled off the mask again.

"Casey? You all right there, mate?"

"I'm…I'm fine…" Casey said unconvincingly.

He closed his eyes to fend off the escalating dizziness and began to waver on his legs then he tried to pinch the bridge of his nose as if trying to stave off a headache.

"Casey?" Billy called out feebly, the effort of breathing his name out, causing his own light-headedness.

Casey then dropped to the floor unconscious. Billy, shocked by what he had seen, pressed his call button frantically.

Once more, doctors and nurses entered his room in a mad rush and Michael and Rick rushed in after them, figuring Billy had had another setback, but to their surprise, it had been Casey who was prostrate on the floor.

"_Now look what you've done. You've reduced me to a heap on the floor. How am I supposed to live this down?" Billy heard Casey in his head._

Billy could only watch in abject terror as the doctors assessed Casey's condition. His own breathing started to quicken and pain began to spread through his chest. He tried taking in breaths through his mask, but it was like sucking air through a straw.

Michael and Rick were just as flummoxed by the scene as their gaze went from Casey to Billy as they heard Billy sounding like he was choking. Michael managed to disengage his shock from one team member to pull one doctor away to point him to another.

If it hadn't been so shocking, it would have looked like a scene from a comedy movie, doctors trying to decide whom to treat first.

Michael then rejoined Rick in helpless disbelief.

The human weapon was never unconscious unless placed here by his own will.

The human weapon never got sick.

Even when Casey was wounded, he barely registered it and took very few days to recover once treatment was initiated.

So to see him down on the floor, unconscious was a shock, yet there he was, being treated by health professionals whom he often mocked.

And Billy, he always bounced back from setbacks.

Billy never gave up and yet he was struggling this time, weakening with every battle that assailed him to engage against the latest war being waged inside his body.

Two men and a young girl, all from their varying viewpoints watched powerless as one set of doctors, nurses and orderlies got Casey onto a gurney and wheeled him away while another set tried to figure out what was causing Billy to suffocate on oxygen.

Billy felt his own weary body succumbing to the campaign as the doctors tried to assess his condition, his lungs begging for air and his body begging for rest from his own ordeal, but as his mind ebbed towards sleep, his last thoughts were of Casey's fate.

"_If I can't give in, then you can't, mate," he heard his inner voice tell the encroaching vacuum in his mind._

Michael, Rick and Charlotte just continued to stand and stare helplessly, as they watched both of their friends fight for survival.

**TO BE CONTINUED…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Survival**

**Chapter 5:**

Dehydration and malnutrition: Two words that Michael would never have equated to the human weapon. Casey considered his body a temple and one he took pride in worshipping with nutritious foods and dogged exercise. For Casey to neglect himself so severely was inconceivable on one level and completely logical on another.

It explained why he had been AWOL for the last few days. He was clearly working out without sleeping or eating. Michael knew this was Casey's coping mechanism. Self-punishment through perceived self-improvement. He would convince himself that he needed to be better, stronger, prime up his body, isolate his focus even more narrowly so that the same mistakes would never be repeated again on his watch. In the process he had neglected eating and hydrating properly and due to the brutality that he approached every workout, re-injuring his own wound from the mission.

He tore open hapless punching bags when he needed to vent his emotions, most of which he considered superfluous to engage in, but Michael knew that all that pent up anger and frustration had to be vented somehow. Not even Casey despite his protestations to the contrary could withstand some of the very real emotional upheavals that sometimes come with the job.

Billy being critically injured was a particular vulnerability for Casey because he had confided to Michael, under penalty of the threat of bodily harm if he had shared the information to anyone else as well as denying he ever expressed it if Michael did, that Billy was everything he was, but he was also a better man than him because he possessed a love for humanity that Casey didn't. Michael had promised to keep the revelation confidential, but pointed out that Casey wouldn't put his life in peril on every mission if he didn't care about people. Casey would snort at the suggestion, but Michael knew better.

He knew that this particular breakdown was specific to this mission and what happened to Billy because of it. Casey wouldn't share details, but Michael could only guess that he blamed himself for what had happened to Billy. For a man who professed not to care about mankind, his devotion to his team, especially Billy was indisputable.

Normally, if he had wanted to get concrete details about a mission gone wrong, especially where Casey was involved and where he had blamed himself for the mission going south, he would have to get them from Billy.

Sadly, this time, the font of information from that source was being silenced by a ventilator and unconsciousness, which was slowly evolving into a coma. The edema had gotten worse.

Casey would recover and emerge from his unconsciousness once enough fluids were put back into him.

Michael hadn't missed the irony of the situation. Billy needed fluids removed. Casey needed fluids to hydrate.

He had to admit the idea of confronting Casey about his foolish behavior as well as getting at the root of it could bring physical harm, but Michael figured, maybe in Casey's weakened condition, he had a chance of either hammering at him enough that he would give in or he'd be able to hold off any assault easily.

Neither option was attractive, but it was necessary to find out what was happening with his men. He was their leader. It was his job to lead them out of the despair and health crises they were both dealing with. Since Billy was facing his battle alone and there was nothing Michael could do to help him except be there when he woke up, he waited for Casey.

Michael sat and watched as Casey emerged awake, startled and in true Casey fashion, resisting.

"What? What happened?" Casey said as he tried to rip off his IVs.

"Whoa, there, stop," Michael said as he got up and restrained Casey with a firm hand to his chest.

"I'm fine, Michael, now let me –" Casey protested, but as he tried to get up, dizziness assaulted him and Michael had to guide him back down to the bed.

"Yeh, sure you are," Michael said.

Casey laid back and closed his eyes breathing through his dizziness.

"Two words: Dehydration and malnutrition. What the hell did you think you were doing?" Michael scolded lightly.

"I don't appreciate being interrogated, Michael."

"Well, that's just too bad because I want answers," Michael asked firmly, knowing that Casey responded better to that versus coddling concern.

Casey opened his eyes and a look of sincere concern was on his face.

"How's Billy?"

Michael then eased off.

"He's unconscious, but the edema's slowly being reduced."

Casey noted Michael's expression and knew that he wasn't telling him the whole truth.

"I don't appreciate being lied to either," he said.

Michael relented.

"It's a setback, but Billy's fighting."

"Billy's always fighting…He just shouldn't be this time." Casey revealed in a rare moment of weakness as he rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose.

"Casey, you know that things like this happen. It's not always –"

"Yes," Casey said emphatically. "It is ALWAYS avoidable."

"Mind explaining to me how you've come to that conclusion?"

Casey took in a breath.

"Is that an order?"

"It doesn't have to be," Michael said softly.

Casey sighed.

"Just because we…" Casey couldn't even spit out the word fail, especially when he knew he was applying it to himself. "Doesn't mean we can't prevent it from happening again."

"Or die trying?"

"Maybe…yes," Casey dodged, but Michael could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

Uncertain was something Casey rarely was. He'd rather be out and out wrong and deny it than be unsure, especially of himself.

"And explain to me what we could have POSSIBLY done to avoid what happened? Contrary to what people see in Bond movies, we can't mind read our assets –"

"Billy got shot because he had to save my sorry ass. There. Happy now?" Casey blurted.

Michael nodded.

"It's called teamwork, Casey. He saw that you needed help and did what any one of us would have done."

"You don't get it. It should **never** have been necessary. I got cocky and –"

"You? Cocky? No!" Michael teased, but saw that it didn't have the humorous note that he had intended. "Casey, you're not invincible, contrary to what you may believe."

Casey shook his head.

"You're still not getting it, Michael. If I can't protect any of you, what good am I?"

Michael wasn't surprised by the revelation, just the admission.

"And here I thought you had a much higher opinion of yourself. Could it be that the Mighty Casey Malick is as much human as he is weapon?" He tried to tease again.

Casey scoffed.

"If you're going to mock me, then leave."

Michael then mellowed.

"Seriously, Casey, is that what you really think? That all you are to us is a weapon to be deployed like an IED and nothing else? Because I can tell you right now, you're the only one who thinks that. We may tease you about it, but in the end, you're flesh and blood, not metal and explosives. You are NOT expendable, Casey. And I KNOW that Billy thinks that you're more than that."

"And that's the problem."

Michael looked at him confused.

"You've lost me."

"Billy…he…never listens…never follows orders," Casey said, his voice growing more clogged with emotion. "I told him to wait, to stand down, but he just barrels right in and gets himself shot because of me, because I couldn't subdue those assassins fast enough and missed someone that I should have seen."

Michael heard the words and felt the tone.

"You think you're slipping, don't you? That this 100% crap you throw out to explain your concentration isn't as infallible as you think it is and THAT SCARES you," Michael said, but not accusingly, just firmly because Casey responded to that, usually defensively, until now. "And I'm telling you that's okay. It's why we're a good team. We work together to get the job done: **All** of us together, Casey, not just you against all the assassins of the world. If a situation calls for us to step in to do what's necessary to help someone, to save someone we care about, then it's a no brainer call. You know that. Do you think you're not deserving of that?"

Casey didn't answer. He didn't have to. He rolled over and turned his back to Michael.

"You can leave now."

Michael knew that he had touched Casey's sore spot, but he was at a loss as to how to solve it. For as many years as he had known him, Casey was better with punches and kicks, delving any deeper into his psyche was like venturing into a well-fortified mine field where there was literally nowhere safe to plant your feet. If Casey were the medieval type, there would also be moats and trebuchets guarding the entrance where his feelings were. Few people ever cracked that. Michael could only assume that his parents had a key to that fortress having never met them, he couldn't be totally sure. The only other person he knew who had been allowed entry, if reluctantly, was Billy with his cajoling albeit relentless caring.

Michael believed that Billy just wore Casey down with his, sometimes bordering on playful, hazing. It was an evolution of friendship that Michael wouldn't have called considering how drastically different the two men were both in temperament and in outlook on life plus how much Casey had resisted Billy's presence when he had first joined them, but after they had lost Carson, it had been Billy who had played healer for both of them.

It had been Billy who had knocked on Casey's door incessantly, even singing or reciting almost full Shakespearean scenes to draw the kind of attention Casey hated in order to have him surrender and let him in. Michael didn't know what other "magic" Billy had applied to ease Casey through his guilt and anger back then, but it had worked, for both Casey **and** him. It had turned out to be a full time job because when Rick had joined them, Billy had to not only salve their distrust of Rick, but to also welcome Rick into the fold with as much reassurance as he could without sacrificing his fidelity to Casey and Michael. Michael had known that Billy had made his assessment of Rick in an instant. It was his skill, reading people and he had known Rick was trustworthy from the get-go. That same said skill was why Billy was able to crack through the hardened shell that is Casey Malick.

Casey needed Billy. It was an unlikely partnership that bloomed like a hearty plant does under harsh soil and weather conditions. Once established it was an unbreakable bond, it was a bond of friendship that Casey had never forged as strongly as he had with Billy so Michael understood. The investment and commitment to that friendship for Casey was lifetime and so for every time Billy was injured, especially critically, a piece of Casey's carefully crafted equilibrium would be chipped off, leaving him open to emotional breaks. And if Casey believed he was to blame for Billy getting hurt, it was a responsibility he would carry until Billy emerged from his coma to convince him otherwise.

Survival for Casey was directly tied to Billy's survival and Michael had to believe that Billy would make it. He always did. Only Billy had the answer and the mystery was slowly killing Casey.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Casey had finally been released. He had sworn to everyone that he would take better care of himself and to no longer participate in overworking himself in any physical workouts under threat of having a "babysitter" tagged to him to ensure that he kept his promise, Rick happily volunteering, but he hadn't left the hospital.

Charlotte, in the absence of Billy's reassuring presence, clung to Casey's side. If it hadn't been for the dire situation, Michael and Rick would have enjoyed the scene, ribbing Casey no end about revealing this vulnerable side to her, Billy especially would have enjoyed the sight, but with him so gravely ill and unconscious, all they could do was watch with mild amusement.

"I'm glad you're better," Charlotte said meekly.

"Thanks. I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's okay. You couldn't help getting sick. Just like Billy can't help it either."

Casey swallowed his emotion back.

"You know, you're really brave for coming back," Casey said.

Michael and Rick unable to hold back their delighted smiles. A little girl brought out a compliment from the normally reticent man.

"_Nice of you to comfort her in my stead."_

Casey looked over at Billy and knew that he was still unconscious. He felt a small squeeze of his hand and he looked over at Charlotte.

"Do you hear him too?" She asked.

"What?" Casey asked a bit flummoxed.

"Billy. Do you hear him too?"

Casey didn't know how to answer. He didn't know whether to admit it and feel only remotely comforted that she would believe him or continue to wonder if he was going crazy even if she did.

"Billy said that he hears you in his head when he needs help. Is Billy your imaginary friend too? It's okay. I hear him too."

"I'm not sure," was the most Casey would admit to.

"I'm scared for him and sometimes I hear him tell me that things will be all right, that he's doing his best to come back, but just needs more time to rest," Charlotte explained with a smile.

"_I hope I don't disappoint the lass. I usually never break promises, especially to pretty young ladies like her."_

Casey took in a breath.

"If Billy made a promise, he'll keep it. He won't let you down. He's never let any of us down."

Casey's voice caught on some emotion.

"_There, try to get out of that one. You're really on the hook now. If you can't do it for me…" Casey thought to himself. "Okay, it's official, I'm losing my marbles." _

"What's wrong, Casey?"

"What do you mean?" Casey asked as he straightened defensively.

"Your face, you look like you're going to cry."

"No, I'm not," he said clearing his throat.

Charlotte smiled at Casey's denial then decided to drop the subject and just hold his hand.

After a couple of hours, Charlotte had to go home, but Casey stayed, vowing to get some rest if they'd let him take first watch over Billy. Only remotely suspicious, Michael and Rick left for home.

In the semi-darkness, the silence was deafening. Normally, Casey relished the peace and quiet of solitary thinking, but he suddenly realized that he missed Billy's nattering about everything other than the mission at hand. It was **too** quiet. He didn't think he'd ever say that.

He was glad that Billy was off the ventilator, but the stillness of his form, even with the rise and fall of his breathing under his own power versus the machine wasn't comfort enough. He almost found himself begging for Billy to say something.

"_Right, knew someday you'd miss my mellifluous voice and Sean Connery accent."_

"Yeh, it only took a coma to make me realize how much…" Casey stumbled. "What is happening to me?"

"_Come on, admit it, you miss me. You needn't worry. It's not like I'll be lauding it over ya, after all, I'm in a coma and this is probably all in your bloody head anyway, complex place, that, I must say. Perhaps I'm just a crack in that stoic center of yours, aye? Or am I? Could it be that I'm not a figment after all, but the voice of your conscious talking? Maybe you really are going starkers, aye?"_

"My luck. I'm going crazy hearing you in my head. Typical…" Casey paused. "And I don't miss you…I just wish you would wake up so –"

"_So? So what?"_

"So I can ream you a new one about getting yourself shot on account of me," Casey blurted in frustration.

The nurses heard him, turned their heads for a second and didn't even blink. It must be normal for them to hear people talk to comatose patients.

"_It's not your fault. I'd do it again in a heartbeat," Billy's voice softly said with a sincerity that nearly brought Casey to tears. "We're mates, aren't we? Isn't that what mates do for one another? Keep each other safe?"_

"No, you can't do that, I mean, I can't do that. I won't rationalize what I did."

"_And what is that exactly?" _

"I let you take a bullet that was meant for me."

"_I don't recall them having any engravings on them."_

"Be serious, will you?"

"_What? I **am **being serious. And what do you mean 'let' me take a bullet? Who said that every bullet only has your name on them, aye? Those bullets I took for young Charlotte there, they were mine and mine alone and likely put me here in the first place and as I said, I'd take those bullets again in a heartbeat. It's what's expected from the job. I know it. **You** certainly know it, to excess if you ask me. Michael and Rick do as well. Why are you obsessing over this?"_

"You don't understand."

"_Clearly I don't, so why don't you explain it to me then?"_

"I can't lose any more friends, all right? Are you happy now?"

"_You have plenty of friends."_

"No, what I have are colleagues who are my friends."

"_Is there a difference I'm not seeing?"_

Casey sighed with exasperation.

"I take it back. I DON'T miss the sound of your voice."

"_I'll not be silenced until I get a proper explanation."_

Casey blew out a frustrated exhale.

"I need you here to keep me balanced, okay? Contrary to what you see on the outside, it's not easy to be me…I…" Casey's voice trembled as he whispered, almost as if giving a confession. "I've told you things, showed you sides of me that no one else has seen because I trust you. There aren't many people I can trust. You've never betrayed that trust and you've never treated me like a monster, like some sort of hybrid of man and machine."

"_Michael and Rick don't see you –"_

"Yes, they do and that's okay, it's what I am…but it's not **who **I am and it's why I need you here…I need you to remind me that I'm more than just a human weapon because sometimes...I **do** wonder if that's all I am."

Casey then heard something. Whispered words that weren't his own were filtering towards him. He then realized it was a voice. Billy's voice. He bolted up and saw him come awake, moving his mouth.

"I'll get the nurse."

He felt Billy's fingers tap lightly on his hand.

"Wait…" Billy said hoarsely. "Need…to…say…something."

"It can wait. You –"

"Heard you…not who you are…more to you...than that…"

"What?" Casey said confused, all manner of memory of the "conversation" shot out of his head in the urgency of the realization that Billy was waking up.

"You…are…not…a machine…would do it again…in a heartbeat, yeh?"

Casey almost lost complete composure at those words, words that he thought he had fabricated in his head, but that were now being said by Billy himself. Suddenly he wasn't sure where illusion ended and reality began.

The doctors examined Billy and though they gave him a cautiously optimistic prognosis, they also warned that he had a long road of healing ahead of him as well as physical therapy. He was also extremely weak and would tire easily for a few weeks at least.

Though his usual joviality was tempered, he was able to engage enough of it for when Charlotte visited to ease her anxiety. She had gone through so many shocks with his setbacks and he felt he owed her some much needed reassurance despite the brave face she was showing towards him.

Casey had been unusually subdued and Billy had known the root of the problem there and was determined to straighten out the misunderstanding between them. It would be easier to make convincing arguments now that he was on the mend.

Charlotte had come by every day while he had been unconscious, but on her first visit since he had regained consciousness, she felt a little nervous in the beginning, but was glad to see Billy looking better if weak.

"Hi, Billy!" She said cheerily.

Her presence was the best medicine for Billy. Her joyfulness gave him the needed boost to keep his own mood and strength up.

"Hello, there, lass. How lovely to see you again," Billy said his voice raspy, but the lilt was still there.

"How are you feeling?"

"I won't lie to you, love, I'm feeling a bit knackered, that's tired to you, sweetheart, but the doctors tell me I'm on the mend finally so I plan to do my best to get better and better. I'm sorry I scared you."

Charlotte's expression softened and she grasped his hand. His weak squeeze back made her sigh and smile even more widely. It also brought a small giggle.

"It's okay. Casey said he was sorry too. I'm just glad you're both better."

"Ah, right, I remember now that he had been stricken as well."

"He was more scared about you, though he didn't say it because he wanted to protect me."

"Aye, that's our Casey, always taking on unnecessary burdens."

Billy took in a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility of Casey's unnecessary self-recrimination and he knew he had to set things right soon.

"Would you mind terribly if I talked with him first? I fear your powers of observation are spot on and he needs a bit of reassuring."

She giggled again.

"Sure, I'll go get him," she said as she turned to leave, Billy gave her hand another quick squeeze.

"Thank you for looking out for my mate, Casey there, for being there for him. He sometimes acts too brave for his own good, yeh?" Billy said. "And thank you for watching over me as well. You kept us both going with your strength."

Charlotte's face was luminescent with joy that she had helped them both.

"I'm glad," she said just as toddled off to get Casey.

Billy laid back. He hated feeling weak and exhausted, but understood that after what he had gone through he couldn't be expected to feel like dancing. Still, he knew he couldn't fully rest until he had talked with Casey.

"Ah, speak of the devil," Billy said as he watched Charlotte escort Casey into his room, his hand covering hers.

It was a sight that even in his compromised state, Billy could enjoy and would remember for future mining for ribbing purposes when they were both back on their feet.

Casey glowered.

"Ah, and escorted by the lovely Miss Charlotte, thank you, love."

"You're welcome," she twittered.

"Shall I see you later then?"

"Sure," she said as she pranced from the room.

Billy turned his attention back to Casey.

"I see that being in a coma hasn't deadened your charm. Guess that means you're on the road to recovery finally and I can kiss the lovely silence I was enjoying good bye," Casey commented, but Billy could hear the strain.

"My me thinks thou protests too much, aye?"

"Spare me the Shakespeare, okay?" Casey protested.

"I see that hospitalization has only made you even more sullen and to think I didn't think that could be possible."

"Guess I'm full of surprises."

"Much as I enjoy these pleasantries and quite honestly, have actually missed them while unconscious, we need to talk -"

"No, we don't. I don't want to be held responsible for impeding your recovery. I'll never hear the end of it from Michael and Rick. As it is, their attempts to psycho-analyze me have been insufferable -"

"It wasn't your fault," Billy blurted out in order to get a word in edgewise with the defensive human weapon.

Casey froze in place, his next retort dying in transit to be expressed by his lips. Instead, a deep sigh replaced it.

"Yes, it was," Casey finally relented.

Billy shook his head sympathetically.

"We are partners, are we not?" Billy queried.

"Of course. We all are."

"Clearly not all created equal."

Casey fell silent.

"You are not the proverbial sacrificial lamb of the ODS. I will not abide you believing that and never will," Billy insisted. "If it makes you feel better, I take full responsibility for my actions."

"It doesn't."

"Casey, you could not predetermine my choices no matter how much you'd like to convince yourself that you could. One thing you must accept is that I have my own mind and I will defy any and all rules if any of you are in peril. To tell me that I have no choice will always be met with rebellion, so best get used to that insubordination."

Casey listened and felt a sense of gratitude at the honesty of Billy's words. His continued silence spurred Billy on with his arguments.

"As distasteful as you may find it, you have friends, yes, friends who will do whatever it takes to keep you safe as you always do for us on each and every mission."

Casey remained silent with humility. Billy sensed it and that he was slowly breaking through to Casey's stoic center so he kept talking, the exhaustion creeping into his body, threatening to silence him before he could finish convincing his friend that he had been worth every wound.

"You play your bravado to the end, but I know better. You feel it a weakness to care, a crisis in character to fail at protecting those you have been entrusted to protect, but that protection goes both ways, my friend and I would take nothing back to spare myself this hospitalization. I would do it all again to ensure your survival."

Billy could no longer hold back the insistent unconsciousness, his body's call for rest, but before he drifted off, he heard Casey say, "Okay...I get it."

He then smiled and said, "Good...that's settled then..."

Casey waited until Billy had fallen asleep then placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks," Casey said as he then sat back down in his chair and stood guard over Billy.

**FIN. Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed it.**


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